


It's Only Natural (Why Did it Have to be Me?)

by mariposaroja



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Mamma Mia - Freeform, a bit au i guess, everything is fine, still in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 18:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: In whichsomeone(read: Loris) decides it's unnecessary to book their cinema tickets in advance and Emre is Not Happy





	It's Only Natural (Why Did it Have to be Me?)

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is fine and Lomre is still together. Nothing bad here. At all.   
> *cries*

“I told you we should have booked in advance,” Emre glares at the other man, managing a tight smile and polite ‘thank you’ for the woman who hands over the tickets. Without waiting for Loris, he heads in the direction of their screen, scowling as he passes the one he _should_ have been in, leaving the blond hurrying after him.

“You agreed that it would be fine!”

“Yeah, because you convinced me that _no one_ goes to the cinema on a Wednesday. Yet- _apparently_ \- half of fucking Liverpool is here tonight. I swear, if we get pictured going to see _this_ we are so fucking done!”

Loris can’t help but laugh, even if it is ill-advised, especially when the attendant takes their tickets and tries not to chuckle at the cold war that is currently playing out right in front of her. “Enjoy the movie.”

Emre grimaces at that, turning up his nose as only he can and the keeper cannot help but place his hand tenderly on the other man’s arm, first to admit that he was probably enjoying this a little too much but not caring all the same. In fact, the only thing that will get him through the next two hours is the fact that Emre will inevitably hate every single second of it. If nothing else, it will be nice to see him _not_ get what he wants for once. “Oh, we _will_ ,” Loris gleefully switches to English, enthusiastically holding the door open for his boyfriend.

“Dick.”

The smirk, however, is wiped right off Loris’ face. “Oh.”

The amount of people inside certainly surprises him, the theatre almost completely full up with, not unexpectedly, mainly women. In fact, they find themselves in the a very exclusive class of people, made up by no more than seven men, all of whom seemed to have come to a non-verbal agreement that none of them were ever there, which will undoubtedly suit Emre just fine.

Speaking of which, the midfielder is currently grinding his jaw so hard that Loris is sure that the people in the back row can hear it. “Masculinity so fragile, Em.”

“Shut it, _Lo_ ,” he snaps back, trying and failing to make himself look inconspicuous as they climb the stairs and locate their seats, which, unfortunately, involves scooting past a group of ogling thirty somethings. Loris smiles at them, about to sink into his seat when he’s stopped by Emre, whose hands lands firmly on his chest. “Don’t get comfortable, you’re on popcorn duty.”

“Sure, if you’re okay with people seeing you sitting here by yourself, all excited for the movie.”

Well, he certainly isn’t wrong. “Fine,” deciding this can’t get any worse, Emre huffs and gets up again, rolling his eyes when Loris gives him a knowing smile and sits down, “but you’re paying.”

The keeper all too willingly hands over his wallet. “Get yourself something nice, darling. I always wanted a sugarbaby.”

“You’re a year older than me, Loris. I’m afraid you might have to go a bit younger if you want a sugarbaby.”

And with that comment, he leaves, leaving the blond chuckling softly and shaking his head to himself. Emre would forgive him. Eventually. And, if not, well… hopefully the sheer entertainment of this slightly disastrous date would be enough to keep him sustained.

Loris is keeping himself busy by flicking through Twitter when the other man returns, eyebrows raising when he sees the amount that Emre had managed to carry in with him; two drinks in his hands, a very large popcorn tucked under one arm and the biggest, most bulging bag of pick and mix Loris has ever seen in his life tucked under the other. Emre smirks at him, and the keeper can’t help the peal of laughter that escapes him when he thinks about the fact that his boyfriend was obviously trying- and failing- to bankrupt him. By buying overly priced sweets.

“At least you tried, Em.”

Clearly not happy with that, the midfield unceremoniously drops the bag right onto the other man’s crotch, eliciting a hiss from the blond. “Jesus, that’s heavy!”

“Got the receipts to prove it,” Emre comments dryly, eyes not straying from the trailers and ads that were just beginning, before dramatically popping a single piece of popcorn into his mouth.

He may not be one for showing his emotions, but Petty Emre is one of Loris’ favourite things in the whole world, strange as it was. And so he just smiles and shifted in his seat until he found the most comfortable position, reaching out and placing a hand on the love of his life’s thigh. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

And, surprisingly, it really isn’t. It’s pleasantly watchable and, though Loris knows he’s trying his best to imply the contrary, Emre has undeniably softened ever so slightly. His anger seems to disappear bit by bit until the keeper’s attention is drawn from the rather flamboyant and utterly enjoyable musical number by his boyfriend muttering something beside him.

“What did you say?” he whispers, caught of guard when Emre grows flustered, looking guilty as sin. It perplexes Loris momentarily, until it finally hits him: Emre was _singing along_. _Emre Can_ , Mr “I’m Too Good for Human Emotion” ™ was actually singing along to ABBA, in the cinema, for the world (or a decent enough portion of it) to see. And they say that miracles don’t happen…

“Oh my god!”

“Shut the fuck up, Loris. I swear, if you ever mention this to anyone I will destroy you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Not that he would ever contemplate embarrassing his boyfriend, this was strictly for his own enjoyment only. So, smile threatening to cut his face in half, Loris settles back into his seat, thinking that this might be the best mistake he’s ever made when Emre reaches over and takes his hand, holding it in the small gap between their seats.

 

“He’s kinda hot…”

Loris finds himself nodding along with the whispered statement until something suddenly occurs to him. Doing a doubletake, he tries to contain his laughter and fails miserably.

“What?”

“You have a fucking type, Em.”

Emre actually has the audacity to look genuinely shocked by that. “What?!”

An older woman in the row behind shushes them and Loris flashes her his best apologetic smile before lowering his voice. “Seriously? The blond hair, the blue eyes… The dashing smile.”

Brows knitting together, Emre frowns and looks between his boyfriend and the beautiful Swede on screen, and then once again for good measure. _Huh._ “Oh my god, I do,” and the a hasty “you’re much hotter though.”

 The keeper scoffs at that, merely shoving a handful of popcorn in to his mouth as he decides that there are worse thing his boyfriend could do than fancy someone who bears a striking resemblance to himself. Besides, Emre having a wandering eye (or wandering anything else, for that matter) is not something he worries about. Ever. It took months of Loris trying to get him to let his guard down enough to actually successfully make a move. Emre Can is a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure, but when he finally did, Loris found that it was also the most flavoursome.

 

_Oh, well that was unexpected._

The scene playing out on screen somehow manages to hit him straight in the chest, taking him completely by surprise, and suddenly Loris finds that he has a lump in his throat. It’s slightly comical; Loris hadn’t even expected to _enjoy_ the movie, never mind feel so emotionally affected by it, and considers for a moment whether this incident with the tickets was a happy coincidence after all.

His musings are interrupted when the little boy sat next to them (to whom Emre had quickly offloaded the mountain of sweets when they had realised that neither of them would actually eat more than one or two) draws his attention by very loudly questioning why his mother was crying. Loris chuckles at that briefly, before the sound dies a death in his throat when he sees something that shocks him to his very core:

Emre, hastily rubbing his eyes.

For a moment, it feels like he’s been thrust into an alternative universe and Loris has no idea how to react because not only is Emre Can _crying_ , he’s crying because of _Mamma Mia_ of all things, which is… well, Loris has no idea how to describe it. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so surprised in his entire life.

Realising he’s been caught, Emre tries his best to glare through the drops that are slowly but surely trickling down his cheeks. “Don’t even fucking say it, Loris. I’m warning you.”

Loris knows much better than that, and wouldn’t dream of it anyway. Such a show of emotion from Emre is so rare that he can’t help but- well, not _savour_ it but maybe _respect_ it. And encourage it. Smiling softly, Loris reaches out and takes the other man’s hand once again, raising it to his lips this time. It’s not like anyone is looking at them anyway.

Later, when Emre acts like this has never happened, Loris will let him.


End file.
